Eye of The Storm
by Arlene Quintz
Summary: Harleen Quinzel has just begun her internship at Arkham Asylum and is about to meet the man who will change everything. Realistic Harley. Graphic violence & sex in later chapters. Not for the squeemish.
1. Chapter 1

"Just breathe Joan"

She inhaled deeply and willed her hands to stop shaking. Letting the breath out slowly, she tried not to think about what the man on the other side of the door had done. There wasn't one person left in Gotham who hadn't been affected by his ludicrous antics. Joan's own brother had been in Gotham General that day. His wife had just had a beautiful baby boy. Six pounds ten ounces. Joan shook her head fiercely and forced these thoughts from her mind.

"I'm a professional. He is just another patient."

She smoothed down her chocolate brown pencil skirt and grasped the cool silver door handle. It didn't matter how often she had seen his face on TV or how long she had gone over the pictures in his file, when her eyes laid on the disfiguring scars and heavy lidded eyes she nearly lost it. He sat slumped in a chair bolted to the floor. His arms securely fastened in a freshly bleached straight jacket.

"Hello. My name is Doctor Leland. I need to ask you a few questions."

Joan mentally kicked herself as she sat in the chair opposite him. _Don't sound like a cop, sound like a doctor!_ But the man didn't move. Joan cleared her throat and shifted in her chair. "They are very simple questions really. We just need to know a few things such as your name and where you're from?"

She had to stop from gasping when he finally looked up. A sick smirk slowly crawled up the left side of his face and his eyes flicked up to small red light in the corner of the room. _He knows we're filming him. Shit. This is going to be a long day._

oOo

The most annoying buzzing sound in the world drifted to Harley over a cloudy sea of the Tylenol PM still floating in her system. Slowly she realized that it was not the school alarm hurrying her off to class but the dinky little alarm she had gotten from a second hand store. Lazily she reached over to check the time and put an end to the horrible noise. Big red crystals read 7:15.

"Aw, fuck. On your first day Harl?"

The small blonde woman kicked the tangled covers from the bed and began to pull on the clothes she had laid out the night before. It had taken her two hours to finally decide on the white cotton cowl neck tank top with a black blazer and a matching black pencil skirt that was almost too tight. She had wanted to shower but barely had time to brush her teeth before slipping into the black matte court heels and grabbing the (mostly empty) black leather valise on her way out the door.

Once she had made it to the street, she hailed a cab. Sure it would probably cost an arm and a leg but she could just add it to the looming mountain of University debts. Using a pencil she pinned her hair up into a bun and watched Gotham slide by. It had only been three and half months since graduating. Two and a half months since getting her internship at Arkham. Eight months since she had gone out with friends. One year, four months two days and six hours since she had last had sex. Consensual sex.

"Thirty-five, Lady"

Harleen merely blinked at the cabbie. He gave her a harsh look and she realized that the cab had stopped moving.

"Oh..yes. Thirty-five? Here," she handed him two twenties, "keep the change."

The man made a rough grunting sound as Harleen climbed out of the car. He drove off leaving her to stand in front of the menacing Gothic architecture. The clicking of her heels echoed across the grounds. _Why do creepy places always echo? _She walked as fast as she could to her boss's office and nearly ran into her.

"Harley, I was just coming to find you." Dr. Leland had a rich voice like Alfre Woodard. It had always soothed Harley. She remembered how safe it made her feel to sit the Doctor's warm office surrounded by leather bound books and various personal chotchkies. It was like an office right out of the movies. She watched the Doctor's deep red lips move fluidly around big important words and theories. This woman was strong and intelligent. Harley wanted desperately for her to be her mentor. _Well you won't last too long if you don't STOP DAY DREAMING AND PAY ATTENTION!!!_

Harley snapped back to reality just quickly enough to hear the tail end of Joan's sentence.

"…it goes against my better judgment but we really don't know what else to do."

Harley responded to Joan's look of tortured worry with the most confident smile she could muster. Joan heaved a resignated sigh.

"All you need to do is get him to answer the intake survey. That's all. You don't need to diagnose him or try to treat him. Just ask the questions and write down the answers he gives."

Some of the tension in Harley's shoulders melted away and her smile became more natural. An intake interview, that was all. Piece of cake.

"Let's get you your ID badge, lab coat and panic button before going down to the observation room."

Harley watched Joan head down the corridor for a moment before trying to catch up with her. _Panic button?_


	2. Chapter 2

Harley shivered. More from nerves than temperature. _I think I forgot deodorant this morning. _She swallowed. _And breakfast._

Shifting in her chair she fingered the panic button in her front lab coat pocket. Joan told her not to hesitate to push the button.

"Even if you just _think_ he is going to hurt you; push it." she said.

Harley began lamenting her recent boycott of local news. A marathon of TV classics such as Golden Girls, Cheers, & MASH had seemed like a perfectly acceptable way to spend the summer. Until she was told she would have to give an intake survey to the most dangerous man in Gotham's history. A man who was very vocal, or completely non-vocal about his dislike of these questions.

She was just about to pray to Bea Arthur for courage when the door swung open. A hunched figure with lank hair was pushed through the door by a broad shoulder security guard. His large brown eyes and deep olive skin reminded her of her college boyfriend. _I wonder if he has a girlfriend..or a boyfriend..I hope he likes me._

Gorgeous opened his beautiful full lips and said something with a rich sexy voice. When Harley responded with nothing more than a dreamy smile, he repeated himself.

"...anything at all. I'll be right outside. Dr. Quinzel?"

"Yes of course. Thank you. I'll be fine in here now. How are you?"

Devilishly handsome quirked his elegant eyebrow, "I'm...okay. I'll leave you to it."

It took a moment for Harley to compose herself and summon the willpower to move her eyes from the door to the patient. The patient who was scowling at her. Harley cleared her throat and began the well practiced introduction she had formulated her sophomore year.

"Hello, I-

"This is my time" His voice was high pitched and deliberate. It commanded attention. "Flirt with doe-eyed beef cakes on your own time," a pink tongue snaked across his lips, "when you are with **me** I want your full attention, got it?" His last 't' lingered in her ears.

Harley nodded dumbly and licked her own lips. Joan had told her he hadn't said much of anything to anyone. Maybe this was progress.

"My name is Doctor Harleen Quinzel. I'll be giving you an intake interview. The same interview we've been trying to give you for a week actually. " She tried giving him a small smile to hide the quake in her voice and show him she was on his side. He wasn't buying it.

She took a moment to review the questions in her lap. His eyes were intense. She could feel them drilling holes into the top of her head. _Just ask the questions and write down the answers as he gives __them. Thats it. You can do this._ She lifted her gaze to his and cleared her throat.

"Name?"

The man across from her pursed his lips for a moment before answering, "Joseph."

Her eyes lit up. A name! He gave a name! "And your last name, Joseph?"

She could swear she saw his eyes twinkle at that. "Kerr."

Her heart felt as though it might beat straight out of her chest. This was too good to be true! Too good to be true. Her heart fell a little. She looked down at the name she had just written. Joseph Kerr. Joe Kerr. Jo ker. Some progress. _What is wrong with you Harley? Why are you falling for this shit? _When she did dare to peek up at him he looked as though he was about to break into a fit of giggles. _Not even the great and powerful Joan was able to command this beast. He'll never bow to our demands.__ But he might just be arrogant enough to over explain to his minion. Brilliant, Harl._

Bringing her head all the way up, she gave him her most winning smile. "Good, we're making progress. May I call you Joe?"

And then the dam broke and he nearly choked on his own laughter.

o0o

The rest of the interview progressed much the same way. It was sort of poetic in a way. Joan told her to simply write down each of his answers and that is what she did. She did it with a warm smile and a knowing nod. She sat in rapt attention while he told her what could only be a blatant lie about his scars. With each new question he become more exuberant in telling the answer. The more she appeared to buy into his stories, the more friendly he became. When she reached the end of the questionnaire, she had five pages of his answers.

"Well Mr. Kerr, that's all the questions I have for you. Thank you so much for being so cooperative."

He seemed almost disappointed. "When will I see you again, Doctor?"

Harley matched his mood, "I'm sorry but you won't." His faced darkened. "I'm just the doctor giving your intake. Another doctor will be treating you." She gave him a shrug that said if it were up to me it would be different.

He sniffed and spoke loudly to those he thought were listening, " The ole' bait'n'switch huh? Well the joke's on you! I'm not talking to any other doctors." His threat degraded into mad laughter. His entire being was thrown into that laugh and he looked pure. _He doesn't look _pure_! He's a homicidal maniac!_

The soon to be Mr. Dr. Quinzel came in to collect the demented clown. "Come on. Back to your cell."

His laughter echoed down the hall and filled her ears. She had survived. She had tricked him. Now how would she convince Joan to let her treat him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Harleen, none of this is worth anything." Dr. Joan Leland was shaking the stack of notes that Harley had just finished typing up. "Its all fabricated. We can't use it."

The blonde intern just nodded and smiled, "I know that, but he doesn't know I know."

Joan knew she was taking a chance on this girl. With all the doctors the hospital had lost since Crane's break-down, they needed new blood now more than ever. She had been so upbeat and full of ideas during her interview. She had the raw talent for psychology; knew how to read people. But the girl was fresh, too green to deal with a pro like Joker. Joan pressed her lips together and locked eyes with the young woman about to bounce out of her seat. "You were just supposed to ask the questions."

"And I did. I think I gained his trust." Harley's voice was a tad higher than usual.

"And what if you did? Then what? Are you saying you want to be his doctor? Tell me Harleen, how many serial killers have you treated? How many murderers or pathological liars?"

Harley's face fell. "I don't want to hurt your feelings but...He will do so much worse to you. You're not ready." Joan passed her hand over her face. She was tired. This man, no, this monster was taking too much of her time and energy. He wasn't worth it.

"Joan?" She felt Harley's hand on her shoulder. "He's a narcissist. Classic case with sociopathic tendencies. The more we try to control him the harder he'll fight. If he thinks I'm too stupid to see his lies, thinks I acknowledge his authority, he'll accidentally let some real information slip. Like when the villain explains his evil plot to James Bond." Harley's face was so bright and determined it was hard for Joan to rebuke her.

"This is not a movie, Harleen. He could really hurt you."

"I know I can do this Joan. Please just give me a chance. What do we have to lose?"

"Careful, don't ask questions if you don't want an answer."

o0o

It had taken quite a bit of arguing, but Dr. Leland had finally let Harley treat the Joker. Under a few strict conditions of course. Harley was to have the panic button with her at all times while within the asylum. Should she ever need use it, she would relinquish treatment to a more experienced doctor. She would also submit a full report once a week. In return, Harley would have 40 minute sessions with the Joker on monday thru wednesday and a 90 minute session on Thursday. Fridays would be reserved for writing the reports. Sessions would be held in the maximum security therapy room. No cameras. No microphones.

Joan had also given her a large expandable file containing all of the asylum's information on the Joker.

"Spend tonight looking that over. If you still want to continue in the morning we will. I'm serious Harleen, look at all of it."

And so, Harley took off the rest of the day to examine all of the evidence and notes.

And that's where she found herself now. Sitting on her bed surrounded by photos of a mutilated mad man and a dvd copy of his "press releases" playing on her laptop. She had to admit that some of the police reports were pretty grisly and the accompanying photos had made her stomach turn a bit. But most of it wasn't any worse than something you might stumble across on the internet or an alleyway in the Narrows. The Narrows. The place still sent shivers down her back.

It wasn't easy growing up in Gotham, especially for any kid unfortunate enough to be born in the Narrows. Harley had inherited her terrible luck from her father. A dock worker who had fallen in love with a bar waitress. A good man who had worked hard to provide for his infant daughter and alcohalic wife. A man whose meager wages were wasted on dog races and cigarettes. He had tried to keep little Harley from the big bad world despite 15 hour work days.

Harley shook herself from her reverie. It wouldn't do to get stuck thinking about _that_ now. _You'll have all night to lay awake and reexamine old psychological wounds. _Growling at herself she reshuffled some of the clippings and found herself wondering if he had grown up in the Narrows. A particular picture caught her eye. It had been taken in the asylum. He wasn't nearly as frightening without the make-up. It was possible that before his scars he might have actually been cute. _I wonder how he got the scars. Pissing off a mobster, self mutilation, child abuse?_ It was these thoughts that carried her off to sleep.

o0o

_She couldn't breath. She tried screaming but no sound came out. Her room felt so small the door looked as if it curved inward. She could hear the footfalls in the hallway. She knew it would be soon. Her mother's drunken slur was filled with rage. But Harley couldn't understand the words. What had she done? Any second now the door would fly open. Her heart was pounding and a cold sweat covered the back of her neck. _

Harley's eyes snapped open. She threw the blankets off and ran to the bathroom. Her face was splotchy and red. Her hands worked as if automatically turning on the faucet and splashing cold water on her face. The reflection in the mirror looked at her disappointedly. A small sigh escaped her lips.

"I'll never get back to sleep now."

She grabbed a washcloth down from its perch and dried her face off. After taking one last look in the mirror she threw the cloth into the sink and trudged back to the main room of her studio apartment. She squinted bleary eyed at the digital alarm clock. Three am glowed harshly in the dim room.

"This is what you get Harl. This is what you get for not taking your meds."

She climbed back into the mess of blankets and news clippings. She reached into the pile and pulled out the police report from the night of the ferry attack. It had been, according to the madman, a social experiment. Apparently the results were not anticipated and he was about to blow up the boats himself when the Batman interfered. The Batman. He was a villain now. He was the one who killed Harvey Dent. The man looked like a real life Ken doll. Dent not Batman. Harleen shook her head sternly. "Task at hand girl. Focus."

Again and again she read through the files. Looked at each and every photo graph. It was hard to find one in which he wasn't smiling. The rough edges of his Chelsea grin literally extending it from ear to ear. It wasn't long before the clock read six and Harley shoved herself from the bed to shower.

o0o

After two bus transfers and one ferry ride Harleen was back in front of the monstrous black iron gates of Arkham. She showed her badge to the guard, after having to dig it out of the bottom of her briefcase, and made her way to Joan's office. Finding her way was easy enough. It was the lower levels filled with incarcerated patient rooms that was a maze. She straightened her shirt and opened the door, striding confidently into see her superior.

Joan had that look again. The one that said Do I really have to talk you out of this?

"I suppose this means that you still want to go through with this."

Harleen nodded and smiled.

"And you read through everything?"

Harley's smile stretched into a grin. "Three times."

Joan sighed, "I can't believe I'm letting you do this." She pushed a button on her phone, "Michael, can you please prepare Patient 597 for the intensive treatment room?"

The voice on the other end complied. Harley nearly leaped across the desk to hug Joan.

* * *

A/N: Sorry its taken me so long to get this chapter done. Take it from me my blueberries, college is hard. I hope you liked this one. I'm still new at this fiction thing. I'm trying to make longer chapters. The next one should be a bit longer and more in depth. Thanks for reading!


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